Deducing Death
by mariteri
Summary: (Formerly Deducting Death) Here's another story with Hermione and Deadpool. Only this time there's bumping boots along with the chimichangas. What more do you need? How about a supernatural murder mystery with crossovers gallore? Yeah, got that too! Rated M for mature laguage, violence, and sexual situations.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer—I do not own (the stories and/or characters) from any of the following shows (hold onto your seats, people! It's a long list and this will be the only location within the story were all the crossovers will be mentioned) Harry Potter, Deadpool, The Avengers, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, The Librarian, Dead Like me, Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., Warehouse 13, The Dark Hunter Series, and Wolverine/X-Men. Wow, what a list. And sadly I do not earn moneys from the posting of this story.**

 **Hello, everyone! Long time, no author's note. Hope everyone is doing well. Here's a new adventure. Enjoy!**

 **…**

 **Prologue**

Hermione walked into Deadpool's apartment, dropping down to sit on his sofa. He blinked at her, looking over to the door before looking over to where the writer was sitting. Shaking his head, he went over to where the British witch was just sitting.

"Whatchya doing here, Sweet Cheeks?" he asked casually. "I thought with the last of those Hermione Meets Marvel stories we'd never see each other again."

"I thought the very same," she said. "But after a series of bad story ideas, the writer's computer crashing, and a long period of writer's block the author has decided that you and I would make for a good comedy romance story idea."

He thought that over, asking, "Is she aware that I'm a rude, crude man with far more personality than should be legal—meaning that I have several personalities because I'm nuttier than a fruitcake?"

"Yes, she's aware of that," Hermione replied.

"And does she know that I'm a mass of cancerous tumors that have me looking worse than a two day old dried up turd?"

"Apparently she's going to be changing that part of your backstory," she informed him.

"Whatever happened to respect for cannon I ask you?!" he demanded of no one in particular.

"If she had stayed with cannon, I would be married to Ronald Weasley."

Deadpool thought that over. "And that wouldn't be good?"

"Not even the author of the books we were in thinks Ronald and I would have been a good match and said as much years after the fact."

"Oh," he breathed, but then he straightened up and inquired, "Does she know that I am in love with the personification of death herself?"

She nodded to this, adding, "She even has an answer to that too." Getting to her feet. "This isn't a part of the Hermione Meets Marvel universe. It's a completely different realm so none of the others are going to know who I am." She worried her lower lip. "Some might, but seeing as they aren't going to be in the story it doesn't matter."

"So you and I will end up together? We're going to do the nasty, bumpin' uglies, and all those other things that mean we're having sex?"

Hermione turned to glare at the writer, muttering, "With this one, you never know. She either writes me as a sexual submissive that requires a firm hand or I'm a right fine detective who ends up with my soulmate as if by fate."

"Oooh!" Deadpool leered at the author. "Sexual submissive that likes spanking? Kinky."

"More like bondage rather than spanking." Hermione rolled her eyes, adding, "But that isn't important."

"What is?" he inquired.

"Honestly, I haven't a clue anymore," she said in a resigned voice. "The point I was trying to make was to let you know that I am basically Death in this story."

He blinked at her. "You are?"

She nodded. "But the reasons and everything will be explained later on in the first chapter of the story."

Deadpool thought this over and looked over to the writer. "Haven't a clue yet, huh?"

( _Blushing the author shakes her head_ )

He looked back over to Hermione. "Well, I don't have anything better to do. What about you?"

"Seeing as the writer's been coming up with some of the most ridiculous crossovers imaginable, no, I guess I don't."

"Like what?" he asked.

She went over to him, whispering what the writer had attempted to write.

"No!" Deadpool gasped in horror. Pulling out his .9 mm he aimed it at the writer only to have Hermione jump in the way.

"She deleted it!" she exclaimed. "And swore never to attempt to write another fanfiction with that idea as a crossover again." He tried to aim around Hermione. Rolling her eyes she added, "She's fixing your tumor issue so that you look normal and she's currently giving you a love interest—something a lot of fanfiction writers out there aren't doing!"

Pulling back the gun, he said, "Okay, but if I hear one word about her going back to writing a Green Lantern fanfiction staring Ryan Reynolds, she's as good as dead!"

They were silent for a few minutes, as Deadpool took the time to calm down. It wasn't until then that he asked what she was doing there at his apartment at all.

"We've done other stories," he said casually. "Why does this one require a home visit first?"

"She was hoping that by me asking, you'd do her a favor," she told him.

"What favor?"

"She would very much appreciate it if you would not break the fourth wall during the duration of this story," Hermione said to him. "The readers who've never read any of your comic books don't understand that's something you do all the time."

He nodded to this and asked, "Same deal as with the last two Hermione Meets Marvel stories?"

Hermione nodded. "A refrigerator constantly full of chimichangas for the duration of the story with a bonus at the end."

He thought that over. "Okay. She has herself a deal."

Hermione studied him a moment. "You ran out of the last batch I left here, didn't you?"

"Of course I did," he drawled. "See ya later, Sweet Cheeks. I have some work to do before getting all up into your lady parts."

Hermione went back out to the taxi, wishing not for the first time that she wasn't one of three main female characters in a male saturated story. She sat down, sighing heavily. Well, she thought, it could be worse. The writer could be switching her gender like more than a few other fanfiction writers did all the time to Harry or even Blaise Zabini. Shuddering she wrapped her arms around herself, as the cab drove her away.

 **TBC…**

 **…**

 **So there's the prologue! What do you think of it so far? Review to let me know. Thank you, as always, for taking time out of your day for reading and I hope that all of you are having a spectacular day.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer—I do not own Harry Potter, Deadpool, or any of the characters therein. Nor do I make any moneys from the posting of this fanfiction.**

 **Another beautiful day in our Internet neighborhood, another chapter posted!**

 **Please read, enjoy, and review!**

 **…**

 **Chapter One**

 ** _2007…_**

She should have just said no to the meeting. A straight out, right to the point no. But when Harry had come to her, he had been scared, exhausted, and, more than the rest, desperate. It was that and more written all over his face as he sat across from her in her office. Something was going on with her best friend. But as much as she wanted to drag it out from him, it seemed that he was just as stubbornly trying to keep it from her.

"Oh for Merlin sake!" she finally snapped. "What is going on with you?! I'll have the whole of it from you, Harry James Potter, and you will do so right now!"

He blinked at her in shock, seeming to sink in all the more on himself even as he whispered, "I'm Death."

Hermione said nothing for a time, as she just stared at him. When she finally did speak it was to ask, "You're what?"

"Death," he answered, this time in a stronger voice. "I was approached by the last being that was Death and was informed that it was now my job."

"Why?" she asked him.

"The Deathly Hallows." The words came as a blow, but they made perfect sense nonetheless.

She nodded to this. "That makes sense."

"How?! On what plain of reality does this make sense, Hermione?!"

"First of all, please use your indoor voice," she told him. "I know that you're upset. It's impossible given what you've been informed of. But seeing as I am in the same room as you, yelling isn't necessary."

Harry's face went red at her words, but nodded and apologized quietly.

"Second, and this is what I would imagine you would have more trouble with, there's more than one representative of death on the planet."

"How do you know that?" he asked quietly.

"Because I am one as well," she informed him.

His jaw dropped. "But you don't have the Deathly Hallows."

She agreed with him, saying, "No, I don't. I had something else."

"What?" he asked quietly.

"A cause worth fighting for," she replied. "Bellatrix killed me, Harry. I died when she was torturing me. Death came and I was desperate to stay for the fight. I told him that I needed to stay, gave him all the reasons, and I even went so far as to beg." She poured herself a water and sipped on it. "He thought it over and told me that if I were to take over his position that I could have what I needed—to stay alive—but there would be a price."

"What price did you pay?" he asked her.

"Oh come now, Harry. Given everything we've been through, you can't say that you don't know," she murmured.

Horror lit his face. "Remus?" She nodded. "Colin?" Again she nodded.

"And several others as well," she answered quietly.

"Why?"

Tilting her head, she replied simply, "Because it was their times to go, Harry. Fate draws up the list, they give it to the reapers, or in your case Death itself, and we do our jobs. We may not like it—Hell! We may outright hate it—but we have a job, Harry. And if we neglect to do it, there would be an even higher price to pay."

Harry's face went ashen, as he said, "I know."

She studied him a moment. "What did you do, Harry?"

"Mr. and Mrs. Weasley have been through so much! I-I just couldn't do it!" he cried.

"Who?" she demanded.

Swallowing thickly, he breathed, "Charlie. He came home with the dragon pox. He didn't know he had it." He rubbed his eyes and muttered, "No one knew!" Harry looked back up at her. "James." He sobbed. "My beautiful little boy caught it and now he's on the brink of death because I couldn't do my job and reaped Charlie on the train as I was ordered!"

Hermione sighed heavily and went over to him, hugging him and rubbing his back. Sighing heavily, she pulled back and made him look her in the eyes.

"But tell me something, Harry," she murmured. "Where was it in Fate's grand plan that you try to kill yourself?" She looked over to his unconscious body on the floor of her office and back over to him. "It won't fix your error and it absolutely will not help James."

"How can I fix it?" he asked her weakly.

"Get back into your body for one," she told him. "Once you do, we'll take care of what we have to."

"Why can't I just die?" he asked weakly once he was in his body once again and sitting across from her.

"I don't know, Harry," she replied. "Why don't you ask Fate the next time you see them?"

…

It was as Harry and Hermione were watching as the Weasleys were gathered around Charlie's body that he turned to his friend.

"I want you to have the Hallows," he said to her under his breath.

"Harry…" she started only to have him cut her off by dragging her out of the house into the backyard.

"You have to take them!" he demanded. "I don't want this job! I never asked for it!" He ran his fingers through his messy hair and muttered, "Dumbledore thrust this responsibility on me without so much as a by your leave!"

"He knew it would more than likely be the only way to save your life and kill Voldemort," she reminded him gently. "He should have told you, but would you have listened and understood his reasoning if he had?"

Harry went over to the garden bench and sat down hard. "I don't know."

"And he knew that." She went over to where he was and sat down next to her friend. "Ask Fate. It is their rules we live by and it is because of their rules that we work. Ask them."

Blushing he admitted, "I never met them before."

Sitting up straight, she asked, "You've been working as a representative of death for approximately nine years and you haven't made it a point to meet Fate? Not once?"

His face went ruddy, as he stammered out, "I've been busy."

"Too busy to rid yourself of a job you didn't want in the first place?" she asked him dryly.

"When you put it like that, I sound like an arse," he muttered.

Smiling she told him, "True, but it's nothing that can't be fixed."

The two ended up walking away from the Burrow to a nearby field that was close to none of the neighbors. Hermione sent up a signal and soon enough the Fates came. They stood in front of Harry and Hermione, casually bowing to the witch, who bowed respectfully in turn. The Girl was a petite child no older than ten, the Woman looked about Hermione's age and was swollen with the life she carried with in her, and the Hag was an old wrinkled woman who managed to look older than Dumbledore at his oldest.

"Hermione," the Girl said, a smile lighting her face. "Why do you bring us here?"

"As if we didn't know," the Hag said sarcastically, looking over to Harry.

"Oh please stop it," the Woman said, her sweet rich voice had them looking over to her. "You know as well as I do that he never asked for the Deathly Hallows. So why do you want to punish him for wanting to ask to give them back?"

"It started with his kin," the Girl said. "So isn't it fitting that it should end with him?"

"I want Hermione to have them," he told them.

"Why Hermione?" the Hag asked him. "You must have a reason."

"Because I trust her not to abuse them," he stated.

The Woman grinned and said, "Wise." She looked over to Hermione. "And what say you?"

Her answer of, "I know better than to suggest anything." had the Hag cackling, even as the Girl giggled.

"Again, wise," the Woman stated, as she went over to Harry. "You may give the Deathly Hallows over to Hermione's guardianship, Mr. Potter."

"Thank you," he breathed.

"But know this, in doing so you are starting your friend off on a great adventure—one that she may very well not come back from," the Hag told him.

"I don't expect you to tell me all of what I want to know, but can you at least tell me if she'll be happy?"

"Happiness is what we make it, Mr. Potter," the girl said to him.

"What she'll be is loved," the woman told him, smiling at Hermione as she said as much.

"Well, I guess I can't ask more for her than that."

"Sure you can," Hermione told him. "You can ask for my safe return from whatever great adventure they're planning on sending me on, Harry!"

The Fates whispered among themselves for a moment before turning to them once again and the Woman said, "You will have a companion in this quest we will be sending you on, Miss Granger. It will be with this man that you will find your ultimate fate."

And the three vanished.

The two friends stood there in silence for a time before Hermione looked over to Harry and inquired, "Why do I get the feeling that there was so much that they left out of their explanation?"

"More than likely because they did."

 **TBC…**

 **…**

 **And another chapter has skipped along into the Internet. Thanks for taking the time to read my story. Please if you could, review. Your feedback not only helps keep me going, but assists in making my writing better all the time. Take care and have yourselves a shiny day.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer—I do not own Harry Potter, Deadpool, or any of the characters therein. Nor do I make any moneys from the posting of this fanfiction.**

 **Just a quick note. Sorry about the name change. I looked at the name and discovered I had misspelled it, but only had done so a day after I had posted it in the first place. Don't you know that made me feel like all different kinds of nitwit. Thanks for your patience.**

 **Aloha! Welcome to the next chapter in our island tour. Remember to leave your reviews in the slotted sections to let the writer know what you think. Don't disturb the inhabitants and do not by any means feed Deadpool. You'll never be rid of him if you do.**

 **Read! Enjoy! Review!**

 **…**

 **Chapter Two**

 ** _2012…_**

They weren't on the list. Hermione went over the master list again and again, but not a single one of the large group of people that had died earlier that day had been on Fate's master list of deaths that should have occurred that day in London. And the more she looked, the more she found. More than thirty people that week alone had died that hadn't been on any of Fate's death lists—not even the last minute deaths list that tended to come after an injury that would have the person in a long term coma.

No, this wasn't right. It felt ever so wrong, but she didn't know what to do about it. Closing up the list, she started on her way over to the Department of Mysteries in the hope of getting some answers. Hermione was passing the auror's department when who should pull her into his office, but Harry.

"What's going on?" he demanded of her.

"What are you talking about? There's been quite a few things happening lately. Neville's gran passed. She was fighting to have her vulture hat be allowed to go with her. That was weird…"

"There are people dying that aren't on the list," he hissed.

She studied him a moment. "How do you know that?"

He sat down hard and said, "I read ahead on the list and my memory is fairly good." His eyes went intently onto her, as he demanded, "Tell me."

"That's just it," she said, sounding weary. "I don't know. I was hoping to find out if any sort of magical artifact has gone missing from the Department of Mysteries. I was on my way over there when you pulled me in."

"There's no guarantee that it came from there," he replied, leaning back in his chair. "Do you have any idea where else a magical artifact could have been taken from?"

"Something that strong?" She worried her lower lip. "There might be three to five different locations worldwide."

"Why so many locations?" he asked her.

"Because there are numerous magical objects that if they should get out into the world could cause such widespread death and destruction that would ultimately bring about the end of mankind."

Clearing his throat, Harry said in a chagrinned tone, "Oh is that all."

This had her chuckling, as she told him, "Luckily I can get a hold of most of the locations, as we have a working relationship. It's the one that I can't easily get a hold of that has me concerned."

"Who would that be?" he asked her.

"S.H.I.E.L.D.," she answered quietly. "They have warehouses all around the world that house everything from the scientific to the magical." Looking over to her longtime friend, she said, "To be honest, I don't think they know what they have over half the time when it comes to magical devices and objects." She thought it over and said, "They're a bunch of Doubting Thomases, Harry. Testing everything and then some. But unless they know what it's supposed to do or if it requires magic, it's futile."

"Do you think they're testing something that they shouldn't?"

She shook her head no. "They have their hands full at the moment with the aftermath of Loki and the invasion two months ago." She snorted dryly. "From what I've seen, they're still fixing Harlem from the time the Hulk had a play day with another manmade beast. This on top of all the damage done in Manhattan is keeping them very busy." Harry nodded to this. "But I wouldn't put it past their director to know what it might be and who has it."

"So what are you going to do?" he asked.

"Take a leave of absence," she told him. "I haven't a choice. These deaths are happening on my watch. I have to fix this."

"What if the Ministry won't allow it?"

She shrugged and said, "Then I'll quit. I was going to have to soon anyway." Smiling sadly, she explained to him, "It would have started to be difficult to explain why I wasn't aging soon."

He nodded to this slowly. "Are you ever going to come back?"

Hermione said nothing, as she stood up and went over to him. Kissing his cheek, she breathed, "I'll see you when it comes time for you, Harry."

"No goodbye?"

"Never goodbye. After all, I might see you before you have to leave this mortal coil," she murmured, as she turned and walked away.

…

She ended up quitting her job with the Ministry. There was no love lost by either party and so it wasn't a shocker when she said that she wasn't giving them two weeks' notice. Hermione cleared out her desk and went on her way out. Slipping into the cab, she waited until the car came to a stop to reap the man when he died of a heart attack and went on her way.

Hermione sat down with her coffee and was sipping on it when a tall man with dirty blond hair sat across from her. He leaned chin on his hand with his elbow on the table and just stared at her until she looked over to him. His smile was slow, as he kept looking at her.

"I saw what you did," he told her.

Taking a sip of her coffee, she thought over what he could have possibly have seen her do. "And what exactly would that be?"

Leaning back in his chair, he said, "You totally reaped that cab driver. Which I have to say was pretty boring. I was expecting something more exciting when it came to seeing someone being reaped."

Frowning she murmured, "Not to say that you're correct in what you saw…"

"We both know that I am," he interrupted.

"…but what exactly did you expecting when people died?"

He thought it over. "Fireworks would be nice."

Rolling her eyes, she muttered, "Perhaps you should die in China then. I heard they're big into fireworks there. Perhaps they can have them at your wake?"

"No can do, as I'm pretty sure that's one of the five or so countries that have band me from entering," he told her. "Besides I'm one of those people that are pretty hard to kill," he admitted. "Bullets, bombs, poison…there isn't much one person or another haven't tried to use to do me in."

He moved so quickly that not only was he right next to her within the next second, but was so with his chair as well. The man's muscular arm went around her shoulders, pulling her towards himself.

"Just admit it," he whispered against her ear. "You're not only a representative of death…" He sniffed at her hair, sighing, "You smell better than the last twelve I've met by the way." His lips deposited a lingering kiss on her earlobe. "The fact that you have skin and flesh is a big time turn on too." His lips moved lower to her neck, nipping it. Her small gasp at that had him smiling to himself. "But you're a kinky girl who likes herself tied up by crazed mercenaries dressed in red and black."

"Dammit, Wade!" Hermione hissed at him when she was suddenly aware of just who he was and what was going on. "You broke the fourth wall!"

"I did?" he asked, even though he knew damn well that he did.

"Yes!"

Smiling at her, he said, "What can I say, Sweet Cheeks? I like the way we grooved before. It can't be helped."

"The writer won't give you your chimichangas," she told him.

"Yes she will," he answered.

"And you know this how?" Hermione asked him.

"I have her cat."

Pressing her palm to her forehead, she muttered, "Please tell me that you just lied."

"Of course I did," he sighed. "That cat wouldn't come near me no matter how many times I tried to tell it that I was its friend and would give it all the taco meat it would ever want."

She took a healthy drink of her coffee before asking, "What are you doing here anyway? I thought you weren't even supposed to be introduced into the story until chapter three."

"Yeah, but I got bored and I wanted to show the readers just how pretty I am without the tumors and shit." He smiled at her, wiggling his eye brows. "You want me now more than ever, don't you?" He turned her face so they were now forehead to forehead, as he murmured, "I am sex on a stick after all."

She frowned. "What does that even mean?"

"I haven't a clue, but it sounds nearly as sexy as I am. So I went for it," he replied. "You know I'm right."

"You leave me speechless."

"I get that a lot." He leaned closer and brushed his lips over hers in a light kiss. "I've missed you." But then he pulled back slightly and said, "Though I have to say having you as a potential mate is different than having you be my bestest friend in the world."

"Yes, I suppose so," she replied. "The question that must be asked is if we have sexual chemistry at all of if this is just wishful thinking on the writer's part."

He nodded, proceeding to sound very serious, "Too true."

"Because if there isn't anything…" He cut her off by kissing her mouth hungrily.

Soon enough Hermione found herself climbing onto him and straddling his muscular body. Pulling her mouth off of his, they looked at each other stunned. "I…" she cleared her throat. "Yes, we have sexual chemistry."

"Very much so," he growled. "If there were any more of it, I'm sure we'd be arrested for public indecency." He grinned. "That's one thing I've never been arrested for. Want to have sex in public so we can pop that cherry?" He rested his head on her shoulder and whispered overdramatically, "Promise to be gentle with me."

"We aren't even supposed to be meeting until the middle of chapter three let alone having sex. And that's not going to be happening until the writer makes up her mind when that's going to happen—if it's going to be happening at all."

She attempted to get out of his lap, but was pulled right back down again. His hands flexed on the round, firm globes of her ass, as he muttered, "I've wanted to do that since the first story."

"Wade!" she hissed quietly.

He just laughed and said, "Well, here it is, Sweet Cheeks."

"What?" she asked him confused.

"Chapter three of course." With one last hard deep kiss, he said, "See you later!" And he vanished.

She sat there for a time wondering not for the first time how he transported himself as he did without magic. Thinking she had best get back to the story at hand, she pushed that thought to the back of her mind and concentrated once more on the mystery that would have her teaming up with the mad man.

 **TBC…**

 **…**

 **Another chapter has been lassoed into the Internet. Hope that you enjoyed it. Review to let me know. Take care and have yourselves a fandango filled day!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer—I do not own Harry Potter, Deadpool, or any of the characters therein. Nor do I make any moneys from the posting of this fanfiction.**

 **Here we are…walking down the Internet…we get funniest reviews…from all the readers we meet! Hey, hey, yeah we're not the Monkees huh? LOL! Yeah, one of those days. Enjoy the next chapter!**

 **Please read and review.**

 **…**

 **Chapter Three**

Nick Fury leaned back in his chair, studying the woman in front of him with a casual ease that was anything but. The petite British woman had called the headquarters of S.H.I.E.L.D. that morning demanding a meeting with him, stating that it was literally a matter of life or death. Seeing as the woman had nothing to base this on, she was promptly ignored. She refused to take this as an answer. Hermione managed to find a way to call his office directly, bypassing all the safe guards put into place to guarantee that this very act could never happen.

"Who is this?" he demanded.

"My name is of no import," she told him. "I need a meeting with you as soon as possible."

"Do you really think I'm going to drop everything I'm doing just to see someone that might just be crazy?"

"Of course not, Director Fury. So I'll try my hand at blackmail, shall I? If you don't see me, I'll let your little group the Avengers know that not only is Coulson alive and well, but currently is going around the world in a very large airplane known as the Bus." She paused a moment before saying, "I'm wagering that you will more than likely see me now, won't you?"

And so there she was in front of him in his office. The petite curly haired woman walked in with an air of confidence. She stood in front of his desk and waited in deference to him to take his seat before doing the same in the guest chair across from him.

"I would like to apologize for my brash arm turning in order to gain an appointment with you, Director Fury. I know that you're a very busy man. But if this wasn't so important, I would have gone through the usual process of gaining your audience."

He studied her a moment and could see that she was telling the truth. Fury nodded to this, telling her, "Tell me why you needed to see me."

Pulling out several papers, she handed them over to him. "In the past seventy-two hours alone there have been no less than fifteen unexpected and unexplained deaths within the U.K." he picked up the papers, looking them over as she went on, "In the past week there have been over thirty. And as you can see from the last paper that list is growing."

"Is it terrorism?" he asked quietly.

"I don't know," she replied. "The best I can say is that whomever is doing this, is doing so with a magical object."

He looked to her flatly. "Are you serious?"

"I wish I could say that I wasn't," she stated. "It would make this so much simpler." Hermione worried her lower lip and said, "And there's more."

"There usually is," he said in a resigned voice.

Hermione burnt out every single recording and listening device in the room, saying, "I'm one of several representatives of death on earth."

His eyes went hard on her.

"It's the truth. How else would I have known about Agent Phil Coulson and his trip to T.A.H.I.T.T.I.?"

"You're the one that reaped him?" he asked.

She shook her head no, saying, "That was Glen here in the United States. And let me tell you, he wasn't happy at all when Agent Coulson was brought back six days after he had died."

His eye went all the harder, as he inquired, "How am I supposed to know that you're telling the truth?"

"I'm a horrid liar," she told him.

He pursed his lips and ended up asking, "What is it that you need from S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"Have there been any major break-ins at any of your warehouse locations? If so, was there any magical objects that are missing that are connected to death in any way?"

"No we haven't," he said quietly. "What with Loki having invaded and his heavy use of magic, as well as that scepter of his, we locked down all of our warehouses. They've been on high alert since then and will remain so until further notice."

"Very good," she murmured, checking SHIELD off of her list. "Thank you for your time, sir. Let me assure you that I will be doing my utmost to see that this situation is fixed."

"Give me a call if you need any help…" Just then there was shouting outside of the door, followed by shooting, and laughing.

They rushed out of the office in time to see a heavily armed masked man running past them, followed by equally armed SHIELD agents. The man in red and black stopped next to Hermione.

"Please tell me that you don't work for these goons! You're too pretty for them!" He pulled her into his arms and was nose to nose with her as he asked, "I can move us to anywhere in the world." He paused. "Okay not anywhere—there's still those five or so pesky countries that have me band from entering. But I can take you any other place you want!"

"Deadpool, what are you doing here?!" Fury demanded.

"I heard from a friend, who heard from a friend, who heard from…well you know…that one of the representatives of death itself was here!" He looked down at Hermione. "I'm a big fan. I unalive people all the time!" He tilted his head, studying her heart shaped face. "The flesh and skin really work for you."

"Uh, thank you," she answered. "Can you please allow me to stand? This is getting to be uncomfortable on my back."

"Of course," he told her and stood her up straight, but didn't let her go. "You're eyes are beautiful too. Reminds me of the whiskey this guy I bumped off was drinking when I unalived him. I always thought he had great taste in booze and now…"

"How do you even know about her or the other representatives of death?" the director asked him.

"Given how many times I've been killed and came back, how could I not?"

Hermione thought it over. "So that's why Sigmund told me not to bother with you if you were ever killed in the U.K." She looked over to Fury. "I'll call to let you know when it's been taken care of or if I need assistance…"

"You need help?! I can help! I'm the best non-reaper reaper you can get," he assured her.

"Something tells me that isn't necessarily a good thing," she murmured. "It was lovely to meet you all." And she started on her way out of the building.

"Don't leave me! I wanna go with you!" He rushed right after her, leaving Fury in their wake wondering if the bigger problem wasn't the mysterious deaths, but rather Deadpool himself.

…

Wade absently watched as Hermione slept next to him in the backseat of the taxi. He had been bored for the better part of a day before he had been given the all clear to join the story. And as such had a lot of time on his hands. So he thought what a better thing to do than to go speak to a man that would know how Hermione Granger thought. Unfortunately Charles Xavier wasn't available and Freud was dead so that pretty much only left James "Bucky" Barnes.

After getting some directions to where the inactive characters were hanging out, he found the man in question doing his best to avoid another one of the male characters, who kept yelling at him that they were soulmates and made for each other.

"Whoa!" Deadpool stepped between them. "You're in the wrong greenroom."

The man pulled out a piece of paper and read "Harry Potter slash."

"Hermione centric heterosexual," they said together.

"Oh." The man blushed. "So sorry." And he was on his way.

Bucky looked over to Deadpool. "Thanks for that. I couldn't think of a way to get him to leave me alone."

"No problem," he answered. "I need to ask you a few questions about Hermione Granger."

Laughing Bucky told him, "You know as much about her as I do."

"I know some, I'll give you that much," he said. "But the writer wants the two of us to pair up romantically this time."

Arching his brow, he said, "Interesting. That's not the usual gig for you."

"No, can't say it is," he told him. "What can you tell me that isn't a part of what you guys were a part of?"

Bucky thought it over. "I can't give away backstory. That wouldn't be fair to anyone." He went over and served himself a coffee. "There's not much I can say." But then a light came to his eyes. "I can tell you some of the motivation for why the writer wanted me to be as protective as I was of her."

"She was preggers the last story."

"There is that, but there's more to it," he stated. "I know I am getting into trouble here, but you have to know. She was in a war as a kid. She was tortured. As a result she has more than a few scars and a serious case of chronic insomnia to go along with her post traumatic stress."

"And she still has them now?" Wade asked.

"Totally. The writer's M.O. is to keep all her scarring, as it supposedly adds to the character and most of the cannon Nazis are appeased that she didn't go too far off the reservation with her alternative universe stories."

"Then why did she make certain that I didn't have horrible tumors and scars that are my usual cannon?"

Bucky just looked at him a moment before saying, "The writer's a big fan of Ryan Reynolds. You do the math."

"Oh." He looked over towards the writer, who was attempting to hide under her desk. "Awk-ward."

The alarm on Bucky's phone went off, making him check on it. "I have to get going. It seems that a writer wants me to be the antihero in a story they're trying to come up with for a Captain America/Thor crossover." He stopped at the door and said, "Hermione's genuinely good. Take care of her. She'll more than take care of you if you do."

Wade was broken out of his thoughts by Hermione shifting in the seat, muttering about being chased by a werewolf. Sighing heavily, he scooped her up and settled her down in his lap. Wrapping his arms around her, he rubbed her back slowly.

"Shh, Sweet Cheeks. There's no werewolves here. Just the love of your life dressed in an awesome red and black outfit," he murmured and felt as she settled back into sleep with a gentle sigh.

 **TBC…**

 **…**

 **And there you go, another chapter rushing off to the pub crawl that is the Internet. Thanks for reading, reviewing, not to mention following/favoriting. Take care and have yourselves a dance filled day.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer—I do not own Harry Potter, Deadpool, or any of the characters therein. Nor do I make any moneys from the posting of this fanfiction.**

 **Hello everyone! Thanks for joining the party. Enjoy the story and please if you could drop a line (review) to the writer to let her know what you think of the story.**

 **…**

 **Chapter Four**

The two made their way up the stairway to the Library with Hermione telling him in no uncertain terms that he better damn well keep up the fourth wall.

"These are the type of people that remember shit you don't want them to," she told him. "So please for the love of all that's holy don't do anything other than…" Hermione drew a blank. "Just watch my back."

"I can do that," he assured her. "And I'll look good doing it too."

"You usually do," she admitted, as they reached a small desk at the reception area.

The older blonde woman looked them both over, her lips going tight at the sight of Deadpool in full outfit.

"We don't allow the superhero set inside the walls of the Library," she said, her voice tight as she told them. "The last time one was allowed inside, it took a month of clean up to fix the mess they made."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Hermione murmured. "Because he's coming in with me, like it or not. In the meantime, is the Librarian in residence?"

"Yes, but…"

Hermione leaned in closely and told her, "Some rules can be broken. You know that better than most. So unless you want to be reaped like you should have been back in 1953, then you will allow him in with me."

The woman gasped, pulling away from her. "There's no need to be rude!"

A list fell to Hermione's feet. She picked it up, looking it over as she muttered, "Given another ten souls that shouldn't have died did just that I think I have more to be concerned over than my poor manners." She looked over to the woman. "Now are you going to let us speak to him or not?"

"Go in," she told them, as she hit the button that would let them into the Library itself. "But you will be watched!"

Hermione said nothing as they went into the Library. The sound of heavy blades hitting each other caught their attention and had the two walking over to see what was going on. A man was battling it out with a sword that was being held by no one. And the sword it would seem was winning.

"Huh, that's a new one for me," Deadpool said, as they watched as they passed them.

"It's a first for me as well," she murmured. "I do believe that is Excalibur."

"It's real?" Deadpool asked, as the two passed in the other direction.

"Apparently," she replied, as the man dressed in a fencing outfit looked over at them. They both waved at him, as he kept on going with the sword fight. "I hope that this doesn't go on much longer." She looked at her watch. "I want to get over to the Warehouse before nightfall if we can."

"You're taking me too?" Deadpool asked him.

"Should I have asked?" she inquired.

"It's always nice to be asked," he said, pouting.

She went up to him and murmured, "Will you come with me to the Warehouse in the middle of nowhere?"

Changing his tune at the drop of a hat, he wrapped his arms around her waist dipping her in what should have been a dance move, making her leg wrap around his hips in order to keep her balance. "I'd follow you anywhere."

"Uh, hello!" They looked over to see the man had come back, this time without his fencing mask on.

Deadpool set her back onto her feet properly once again. She straightened out her dress suit and went over to him. "Are you the Librarian?"

"Yes, I am," he said, grinning as he began juggling around his sword and helmet until he could shake hands with her. "Flynn Carsen, nice to meet you."

"Hermione Granger," she murmured, shaking his hand. "And this is Deadpool."

His eyes snapped over to him. "He's not allowed in here."

"Here and five or so other countries that don't know better," Deadpool said. "Nothing to be done for it. But if it means anything, I'm just here to protect her sweet ass."

"Uh, okay," he said, looking over to Hermione whose face was turning very pink at the other man's words. "Hermione Granger? Why is it that I know that name?"

"I've been told I have a memorable name," she told him casually. "But we didn't come all this way so that we could discuss what my parents decided to title me."

He nodded to this, as he inquired, "How may I help you?"

"Do you know of the death lists?" she asked him.

"I've heard rumors of them," he admitted. "I'm new to the position of Librarian so I'm pretty much learning as I go."

She nodded to this. "The death lists are the lists provided to the reapers of the world in order to know which individuals have come to the end of their time here on this mortal coil."

He listened and then nodded. "Okay. Makes sense."

"There are some reapers here in the States that don't receive lists, but rather yellow post-it notes. But that's typically not the norm. It follows the same concept so it's not that much of a change from the idea of the list."

"Why…"

"I'm getting to that," she told him, cutting him off. "These lists are important. Each reaper strictly adheres to them." She sighed heavily. "Someone has found a way to go off the list, doing away with souls that shouldn't be dying yet. I need to know not only how they're doing it, but the why. I came here because out of all the locations, as this one is more than likely the one that can tell me how and what object they're using to be able reap these souls without the list's influence."

He thought that over. "Are there any scythes missing?"

Hermione stepped back from both the men. "They aren't exactly what people think they are." Her hand went out, fisted her hand as if holding a staff, and punched her fist in a downward motion. Both of the men jumped back away from her when a smoky scythe formed in her hand that when its hilt hit the ground solidified in her hands. "It's corporeal in nature and can only be handled by one of the representatives of death." She sighed, "Pardon me a moment. Work." She left with a nearly silent pop and came back a few seconds later. "But like I was saying, they aren't solid and we don't just pull them out willy-nilly." When there was another call, she rolled her eyes. "Why did you guys have to build in New York?" And she popped out of the Library again and once again returned a moment later. "I can hold this, because I'm a reaper." She turned to Deadpool. "Try to hold it."

He reached out but the moment before he could touch it, the scythe turned into smoke and vanished.

"See?"

"Is there a tool that is bigger and better than the ones carried by the usual reapers?" Flynn's face lit up and he went running off only to come right back and tell them, "Follow me!"

Hermione looked over to Deadpool, as he rushed off again. "He's like a Jack Russel terrier." She started to follow the Librarian. "Remind me I never want to get one of those."

They found him five minutes later standing in front of a large canvas painting, frowning and talking to himself. Hermione joined him and looked up at the painting. It was a medieval painting of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. But something was very wrong with it. Stepping closer to it, she levitated so that she could take a better look.

"Death's scythe is missing," she said quietly.

"It was there just yesterday!" Flynn exclaimed, but then paused and muttered, "Or was that last week?"

"This is a magical painting," Hermione said, as she lowered to the ground. "The movement has been stilled by a spell."

"Which means what, Sweet Cheeks?"

"Since it's mobile that means things can be brought in and taken out of the painting as if it's a different room of a house almost," she said.

"That's impossible," Flynn told her.

Hermione looked over to him and said, "The same thing could be said about having a sword fight with a sword without an actual person holding it."

He stood there a moment before admitting, "Touché."

"Death's weapon is missing," Hermione breathed, looking back up at the painting. In that moment she had an epiphany. "That's it." She looked back over to the men with her. "Whomever is doing the killing has Death's Scythe."

"How? Death isn't an actual person," Flynn said, but then frowned and asked, "Is he?"

"The personification of death is complicated to explain, but what it comes down to is that there is a being known as Death. But the being of 'Death' as we know them to be didn't come into being until millennia after the reapers were established. What there was is the first of the reapers and that reaper was the only one that existed for ages," Hermione told him. "Trouble is that I don't know if he actually carried a scythe."

"Who would?" Flynn asked.

She thought it over and said, "There's only one being I can think of that might know." Worrying her lower lip, she muttered, "But is he willing to tell me?"

 **TBC…**

 **…**

 **And there went another chapter disco dancing into the Internet dance club. Hope you liked it. Thank you to everyone that's taken the time to read, review, and follow/favorite. It really does mean a lot to me that you're doing so. Take care and have yourselves a beatific day.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer—I do not own Harry Potter, Deadpool, or any of the characters therein. Nor do I make any moneys from the posting of this fanfiction.**

 **Welcome to the "Deducting Death" ride. Please keep all limbs inside the vehicle at all times. Make sure to leave your reviews at the end of your journey. Enjoy the ride…Oh yeah, and please no flash photography.**

 **…**

 **Chapter Five**

Hermione and Deadpool arrived in Chicago at dinner time. Deadpool was all for finding a Mexican restaurant, but when Hermione ordered the cab to take them over to a German waffle house he thought he was clearly not getting his own way.

"We're going there for business," she told him. "We'll find a place afterwards." Resting her head on his shoulder, she added, "I promise."

His arm went around her, pulling her into his lap. Absently he was rubbing her back, every now and again lowering his hand to her ass and giving it a squeeze before returning to her back. It was when he saw that the driver was paying way too much attention to what they were doing, even for a pervert. He looked over towards the rearview mirror and saw that they were being tailed.

"Sweet Cheeks, what do you say we jet over to the nearest bar to dance?" She lifted her head to look up at his masked face. "It'll be our first date!"

Cupping his face, she told him, "I would love to go dancing, but can it wait until after the cab blows up?"

"Sure thing, sweetheart," he told her. "Can you give me a countdown?"

"Yes," she told him, tapping his shoulder. "Five…"

"What the hell do you mean the cab is going to blow up?!" the driver demanded.

"Really, I thought I was very obvious," she answered. "Four, three…"

He pulled the car over and ran out of the car, leaving them in his dust.

"I assume you know how to drive?" she asked Deadpool. "My driver's license was taken away from me."

"You lied!" he exclaimed, as they moved to the front seat (she by magic, he by his transporter).

"Not well," she pointed out.

"Of course not well," he scoffed as he started to drive.

"It isn't his time to die." She looked at her watch. "He's not up for another twelve hours when you unalive him with a .9 mm bullet to the brain."

"Sounds like we'll be having fun tomorrow!" he crowed, and pulled off into traffic promptly losing their tail in the heavy evening traffic.

They arrived over to the waffle house a half an hour later. As soon as they stepped out of the cab, Hermione set it on fire. They stood there looking at the blaze for a time.

"Next time remind me to get the fixings for s'mores before I set the car on fire," she murmured to him.

He popped away and popped back with the fixings for the s'mores. Smiling, she made long sticks for the both of them and soon were roasting their marshmallows.

"You make vandalism fun," she told him.

He chuckled from next to her, as they were fixing their s'mores. They were eating them when two people came strolling over to where they were discussing the finer points of just how well toasted a marshmallow should be.

"Uh, why did you set the car on fire?" a young blond woman asked them.

"No reason that matters," Hermione told her, looking over to the thin man next to her. "Hello Mason."

"Wotcher, Hermione!" he said cheerfully. "What are you doing here in the states?"

"Long story there," she answered. "Is Rube around?"

He blanched. "He's gone missing. We think someone forced him to move on."

"I'm in charge now," the girl said. "What can I do for you?"

"Do you know anything about the first reaper? And when I ask as much, I mean do you know anything about his scythe?"

Her jaw dropped, as she looked over to Mason. "What the hell did I get myself into?"

"Mason, please introduce us?" Hermione asked, looking over to his friend and boss.

"Hermione, this is Georgia otherwise known as George Lass." He turned to his boss. "George, this is Hermione Granger a fellow reaper from the U.K."

George and she shook hands. "And who's your friend?"

"Deadpool," she told her. "Just for your information if you didn't know it already, he's on the no reap list."

"Wait! There's a no reap list?" Mason asked.

"It's a very small list in comparison to the population of the planet," Hermione told him. "He's one of a few dozen that can't be killed."

"Why?" George asked. "What makes him so special?"

"I was a part of the Weapon X program," Deadpool explained. "They gave me a super healing factor, several friends only I can hear, and a bunch of other things that would have you looking at me as even scarier than you already think I am."

"And the fact that you're currently armed to the teeth would have nothing to do with how they're keeping at least three meters away from you," Hermione said dryly.

"You're the only individual that I want in my personal space, Sweet Cheeks," he drawled.

She only smiled and looked back over to George. "I need to know if there was a physical scythe that the first reaper carried and I was hoping that Rube as one of the oldest reapers I knew would know that information."

"Why do you even need to know that?" George asked.

"There's someone over in the U.K. reaping people not on the list."

Her eyes went wide at those words. "That's murder."

Hermione nodded at that. "I'm well aware of that." When it became clear that neither one of them would know anything about what they needed to know about the scythe, she asked the second most important question of the night. "Would either one of you know where to get the best chimichangas around here, would you?"

…

After dinner at a little hole in the wall place that did serve some of the best Mexican food Hermione had ever had, they got a hotel room. It was a seedy little place that had tried to rip them off by overcharging for the room. Frankly, Hermione thought the owners of the dump would have to pay people to stay there. She managed to talk to the point the man grabbed the key to the room, signed the papers himself, and took the ten bucks she offered without a word other than to say if they had any problems that they were on their own.

After taking one look at the room, she magically cleaned it along with the bathroom. Hermione also changed the bed and the bedding and also went as far as to making the shower run better with hot water that wouldn't cut out in the middle of it all and increasing the water pressure to the point where it would do more than spit the water at whomever was taking the shower.

Hermione having just showered was dressed in a wife beater and men's boxers as she slipped out of the bathroom. She looked over to Wade (she couldn't think of him as Deadpool once he wasn't wearing his outfit) on the laptop she had bought him reading.

"Anything interesting?" she asked, as she walked in combing out her wet hair.

"Those crazy fanfiction writers have started a trend of pairing me off with Spiderman," he told her. "I'm straight!"

"So am I," she told him. "And yet I've read stories with me sleeping with everyone going from my best friend's wife to one of the old teachers at my school. You need to learn to ignore it."

He looked over to her and said, "They're calling us Spideypool!" He frowned. "I like Deadspidey better. That way my name comes first."

"Oh I have to see this," she said with a chuckle, jumping onto the bed next to him. After a reading a bit, she murmured, "It doesn't float my boat, but it's not that bad." She looked up at Wade. "You know what you need?"

"A balls to the wall fucking to get that imagery out of my head?" He put the computer onto the floor, lying back as he pulled her over his body. "That would work for me."

"I bet," she breathed, as she leaned into him more with her legs straddling his hips. She pressed her lips to his, feeling his hands slide around her waist. Hermione shivered as she felt one of his hands slipping into her boxers and cupped one firm globe of her ass. "You are truly fixated on my arse."

"It's sweet," he growled, rolling her to the mattress. "And I like me some sugar." Lifting himself up, he said, "I've always wanted to be in a bodice ripper." He tore her wife beater in half exposing her breasts. He blinked down at her. "Good god, woman! They grew!"

Blushing she confessed, "I wear breast reducing bras."

"Why?!"

"To be taken seriously," she told him. "One look down at them and the men that used to take me seriously would suddenly become a bunch of idiots comparing my…are you even listening?"

He shook his head yes, even as he said, "Nope. Can't understand anything outside of words that my dick comprehends with its massive five word vocabulary."

Yanking his head down, she kissed him as her legs wrapped around his waist. Kissing her way over to his ear, she purred, "I like honesty."

He cupped her breast, rolling her nipple and felt as she absently ground her sex down against his hard on that was tenting the pajama pants he was wearing. She rolled him over to his back grinning down at him, as she moved down his body. Before he knew it, she was tearing off the only thing he was wearing.

"If I wasn't so happy I was about to get some sex, I'd be telling you that you owe me a new pair of pajamas," he breathed.

"Shut up and take your ravishment like the man-child you are," she drawled, kissing her way down his chest.

"I'm the merc with a mouth for a reason," he pointed out to her just as she reached his nipples. He gasped as she nipped at one and tweaked the other with her hand.

"You were saying?" she breathed, as she kept moving down his body.

"I'll be shutting up now."

"Wise as well as handsome," she said, sending him a teasing smile.

He ripped her boxers off, leaving her in nothing but the torn wife beater. Cupping her sex, he found her wet and wanting. Hermione keened the very moment he slipped his fingers over her clit and deep into her hot, moist core.

"Oh you're ready, aren't you?" he breathed.

"You know I am," she panted, kissing his mouth hungrily.

The very moment he was fully enveloped into her snug heat, they looked into each other's eyes in shock and wonder at how perfect it felt.

"We're fucked," they told each other. This had them both smiling.

Panting she kissed his mouth, as she said, "Get to moving, Wade, or we're never going to be to the part where we're getting ever so fucked."

 **TBC…**

 **…**

 **Another chapter has taken its waltz into the ballroom that is the Internet. Thanks for reading and I hope that you're having yourself a green day.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer—I do not own Harry Potter, Deadpool, or any of the characters therein. Nor do I make any moneys from the posting of this fanfiction.**

 **Hello! Can you believe that we're already to chapter six? I know I can't and I'm the one posting it. Thanks for reading, reviewing, and following/favoriting. Enjoy the next chapter!**

 **Please read and review.**

 **…**

 **Chapter Six**

They had ended up having sex most of the night. And between her adventuresome streak and his rapid recovery time, this had them adding a few more things to the room—including hand holds and straps. She was in the middle of changing the room back to what it had been when they got there, when Wade came over to her.

Nuzzling her neck, he said, "Next time we need a swing."

She paused what she was doing, she murmured, "I don't know what one looks like. When we're not busy, you need to show me one."

Kissing her mouth lightly, he replied, "You got a deal."

Hermione was in the middle of finishing up the restoration when a noise caught Wade's attention and had him peaking outside to see what it was. There were men with automatics coming into the building. He picked up his mask, as she finished up her work.

It was with a disappointed sigh that he said, "I miss my girls already."

She looked over to him to see him looking down at her breasts. Giggling, she went over to him and said, "You'll see the girls later."

Winking at her, he said, "I know. Ready?"

"Yes, why?"

"We have company coming." He pulled his mask on, asking, "How are you in a fight?"

"Not as good as you," she told him. "Tell you what, I'll reap what you sew. Deal?"

"Deal." He watched as she pulled out a hooded cloak. He nearly said that although fashionable that what she chose to wear would do little to protect her. That is before she vanished.

He saw her arms coming out of the cloak, as she hugged him and kissed him over his heart. "Have fun unaliving the murderous thugs sent to capture or kill us, sweetheart."

"I will, darling," he sang, kissing the top of her head in a husbandly fashion. He felt her breathless chuckle, even as she pulled away. "Stay safe. I can't be having a serious love interest for the first time in ages just to have her be killed off right when we're starting explore the joy that is sex."

"I'll be fine," she assured him, vanishing completely once again.

Meanwhile, the men dressed in black tactical gear were making their way up to their room. The residents, including the man behind the desk, hid on instinct away from the men who appeared not to care just as long as they didn't get in their way. Hermione watched them all, as she passed them and made her way over to the alleyway where a few of the men's vehicles were located. She took the time to go through them with a fine tooth comb, finding only one thing that had her wondering what the hell was going on. One of the men was an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., something that she found out because she had managed to find his picture identification. Slipping it into her pocket, she had the plan of finding out if this person did or did not work for them. If he was working for them, what the hell was he doing there as a part of what appeared to be a hit squad?

"Where the hell are they?!" came from in front of Hermione.

Several of the men had left the building, all of them looking confused as to where she and Deadpool could have gone. Hermione thought over where Deadpool could have gone and could only think of one location. She looked up towards the roof and saw him hanging off of the side of the building watching them intently.

"Search the neighborhood!" screamed the man, who could have only been their leader. "We have orders to eliminate them both!"

All ten of the men were in the alleyway spit up to both ends of the alley when Deadpool came down in the middle of it. Landing with ease, he said pretty much the first thing that came into his head.

"I would say to 'Say hello to my little friends', but it's become overused and overall has lost its impact over the years," he told them. "So I'll just start shooting you and leave whatever it is we have to say to each other unsaid."

Hermione dove under the line of sight the moment the bullets started flying. About the only thing she heard other than the screams of pain and the falling of bodies was Deadpool's commentary on their skill set—which according to him was next to nil.

This would have been fine if not for the shot that not only made it past Deadpool, past the next group of thugs, past even the car's engine and right into her shoulder. She let out a yelp and cursed as the .38 made a hole in her person. Everything went very quiet very fast.

"Hermione?" Deadpool called out.

"I'm fine!" she called out, as her shoulder healed itself and she tossed the bullet out the side window of the car. "They didn't buy domestic cars!"

"You bastards!" Deadpool growled and began to lecture them on the economy as he shot them all dead.

Or at least they should have been dead. They all just stopped and looked at each other, as they realized what was wrong with this picture.

"Don't look at me," Deadpool told them. "I'm on a no kill list." He proceeded to heal right in front of their eyes. Then it occurred to him what was happening. "Hey, Sweet Cheeks! Get to work!"

She left the car, walking out into the alley. The men were all turning to look towards her. Hermione made the motion with her fist revealing the scythe and slammed the hilt to the ground sending a small quake through their feet. Many of them fell when she did as much, their eyes widening in fear as she stood there. Quickly and quietly, her wrist snapped making the blade twist to the side. A single ping of what sounded like a bell rang out in the air. Rushing air originated with Hermione and swept away from her, hitting the men in the alley like the force of a hurricane. With the exception of Deadpool, they all hit the ground dead. Her scythe vanished and soon she was strolling over to Deadpool.

Once she was next to him, he pushed the hood off of her head revealing her face to him. He leaned down and kissed where the bullet had been, but was now completely healed.

"There," he murmured. "All better."

Hermione slipped her arms around his waist, kissing him over his heart. "If we weren't in such a hurry to get out of this town, I would be kissing all of your injuries better too." Looking up at his face, she told him, "Once we get to our next location, you can tell me where you got shot and I'll kiss them then. And I won't even mention that you weren't shot in the penis."

"That's my Sweet Cheeks," he crooned, hugging her all the tighter.

…

The large airplane known as the Bus landed in the field and soon enough they were walking over to where the ramp was lowering. Hermione strolled past Melinda May, who was aiming a gun at her and Deadpool.

"Agent May," she murmured, looking towards Phil Coulson. "Is this really necessary, Agent Coulson?"

"Yes," he answered blandly. "You will need to remove all weapons for inspection."

"It would take too long," Hermione told him. "And I haven't had my coffee." She looked over to Wade. "I hate getting shot before I've had my morning coffee."

"Don't we all," he commiserated. It was then that Deadpool looked at Lola, the red Corvette, asking, "If her name is Lola, and we all know she was a show girl, why isn't she painted yellow?"

"The yellow feathers in her hair," Hermione murmured. "Judging from the words of the song, you would think the car would be yellow. It's only logical, as Barry Manilow never stated the color of her dress in the lyrics of the song."

Rolling his eyes, Coulson said to May, "Stand down." When Melinda looked over to him, he said, "Let's get them to where they're going as quickly as possible, shall we?"

Both of them looked back over to the two to find them taking a selfie in front of Lola.

"Makes me wonder what they have on Fury," May said, as she left to go over to the cockpit.

"Me too," Coulson muttered, wondering why he had the feeling that he had met the woman before.

Deadpool came over with Hermione with her legs wrapped around him with her head resting on his shoulder.

"Do you know where we can take a load off?" he asked the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. "It's been one of those mornings."

"Right this way," he said, motioning to him to go ahead of him.

Deadpool snorted, but went ahead of the other man in the direction he was instructed to go. They were put into the interrogation room with the doors shutting and locking behind them.

"Told you that they would isolate us," Hermione said casually, as he set her back down to the ground. She pulled out her wand and proceeded to change the furniture into a bedroom set. Next she smiled at him. "Take a nap with me?"

"Do you mean a real nap or do you mean sex?"

"I want to do as the song says, Wade," she told him crawling over to him on the bed. "I want to save a horse and ride a cowboy."

Pulling off his mask, he tossed it aside as he said, "Yee-haw!"

Needless to say Coulson had put them into interrogation in the hopes of unnerving them. The only thing he managed to do was traumatize Ward, who had to keep an eye on the live footage as a part of his security detail. Once they were dropped off at the location they needed to be, it was agreed by the three senior agents that this trip would never be mentioned again. Ever.

 **TBC…**

 **…**

 **There you go! Another chapter has strolled on through to the Internet park. Hope you liked it. Please if you could, review. They help out with the story and my ego—both of which are terribly important to yours truly. Take care and I hope you all are having a vivacious day!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer—I do not own Harry Potter, Deadpool, or any of the characters therein. Nor do I make any moneys from the posting of this fanfiction.**

 **Hello! Hope everyone is doing well. Thanks for reading. Here's the next chapter. Enjoy.**

 **…**

 **Chapter Seven**

Hermione rubbed her arms, as the cab drove them to their next destination. This wouldn't be an issue, but Deadpool was draped all over the back of the cab. And as she was in the back of the cab with him, this included her as well. Hermione absently caressed his cloth covered head and face with Wade every now and again capturing her hand and kissing her palm.

"Where are we again?" he asked.

"South Dakota," she answered.

"Why is it so boring here?" he asked in a near whine.

"You're only asking that because no one's tried to kill you yet," she pointed out to him.

"Do you think they will?" he asked, managing to look excited for the first time since they were dropped off at the airport.

Not wanting to upset or disappoint him, she said, "I'm sure once you start talking to them as you usually do, they'll be tempted to do it."

Curling up, he turned over so that his face was buried against her abdomen. "You're the best, Sweet Cheeks."

They finally arrived at their destination, exiting and paying the cabbie before strolling over to the door to what looked to be a warehouse. Hitting the button, Hermione rocked back onto her heels and looked over to Deadpool.

"With any luck we'll find out what we need and be on our way," she said.

"Yes?" came from the speaker.

Hermione pressed the button again and said, "I'm here to speak to Mrs. Frederick. It's an important matter."

There was a pause followed by a long loud buzzing as the door opened and they were let into the building. Once into the main building they were met by four people—two of whom were pointing guns on them.

Pursing her lips, Hermione took out her wand and muttered, "We don't have time for this shite." With a wave of her wand, the guns that had once been in the man and woman's hands melted like candy. Both dropped them quickly, looking at her startled as they weren't injured when she had done as much.

"Now if you will, I need to speak to Mrs. Frederick. If this wasn't of great importance, we wouldn't be here." Deadpool saw something and was trying to leave her side only to have her grabbing his belt and yanking him back. "Half of the things in this warehouse can kill you. And we don't have the time to piss away."

"Ah! But it's so boring here!" This time he did whine, gaining her ire as he did as much.

"What are you? Three?" the man that had been holding the gun on them asked.

"Sorry, but we can't help you," the youngest of them said to them. "We've had a death in the company."

"Really," Hermione whispered. "I'm sorry for your loss." She proceeded to pull out a paper with now fifty people on it, handing it over to her. "But as sorry as I am for your loss, I must say I feel for every single one of the people on this list who've lost their lives in the last week and a half who should never have died at this time." The girl's face lost every bit of color. "So I ask again…" She snapped the list away from her. "…may I please speak to Mrs. Frederick?"

"Miss Granger," came the hard voice of the woman striding towards them. "And Mr. Wilson. To what do we owe the honor of one of the reapers and a costumed homicidal psychopath coming to visit us?"

She handed the list of people over to her. "These people weren't on the master list for reaping. And more are being killed off by the day. The man I could have gotten some answers from has moved on, leaving me you as one of my possible sources of information."

She nodded to this and murmured, "How may I help you?"

"Did the first reaper have a physical scythe? It's more than likely the only one that could bypass the list."

Mrs. Frederick thought that over and said, "Yes he did have a scythe, but it hasn't been seen in millennia." She looked to be thinking that over. "I do believe that the last time it was seen was when Atlantis sank."

Hermione pulled Deadpool back again. "Thank you for your information, Mrs. Frederick. I think I know who we need to speak to next." She looked over to the young woman again. "And I meant what I said, I truly am sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Good day." Hermione turned to leave, but stopped to look over the interior of the warehouse. "And if you ever want the ghosts in here reaped, let me know."

Mrs. Frederick chuckled, telling her, "They're a part of the charm."

Smiling Hermione nodded and pulled Deadpool away even as the three adults were dragging the young woman away, who wanted to know what Hermione had meant.

As Hermione and Deadpool slipped out of the warehouse, she pulled her jacket tighter around herself. "Now we're off to have some fun, Deadpool."

"How so?" he asked, sounding bored.

"New Orleans! We get to mix with gods and the undead. What more could you ask for?"

"Do I get to kill them?"

"Not the gods, but the undead…" She grinned. "I'll be getting you a sharpening stone for your blades if we have to stay for longer than a day."

Pulling her into a hug, he announced, "You spoil me!"

"No, you just smell that way."

He pulled back and stared at her for a time. "I'm the master of adolescent jokes. Leave doing so to the professionals."

"Okay," she murmured.

He hugged her again. "Nice try though."

Slipping her arms around him, she murmured, "That's what she said."

He snickered.

"Better?"

"Much."

…

They ended up at the airport and rented a truck that they used to drive down to New Orleans. It took a few days, as they kept stopping at the small roadside attractions along the way. The twosome even found some Mexican restaurants as well on route. It was then that they thought of world peace through Mexican food. Wade thought the idea was a winner, but Hermione pointed out that he would essentially make himself unemployed if it worked—even if that work was that of a good guy.

"Good point," he said casually. "But one day I do want to retire if only to show the glory that is an excellent taco to our grandkids."

"Now that makes more sense," she murmured, but looked sad as she did as much.

"Why are you upset?" He stopped them both, making her look into his eyes. "Well?"

"We'll outlive any offspring that we have," she whispered.

He thought that over and nodded. "I know."

"I'll have to reap them," she told him. "I would be their beginning and their end, Wade." Tears gathered in her eyes. "I don't know if I could handle that."

He pulled her into his arms, breathing, "Then you won't have to."

Hermione's arms went around him tightly, whispering, "You won't let me become an old cat woman, will you?"

"I'll do my best," he assured her. "And even if you do, I'll be there to help out with all the cats." He paused to kiss her head. "But you're cleaning the litter boxes."

…

They arrived in New Orleans in the middle of the night on the third night. Exhausted, Hermione insisted that they get a hotel room and get some rest before searching for whom they were looking for.

"Just who are we looking for?" Wade asked, as she was getting ready for bed.

"Acheron," she answered, folding down the bed clothes and climbing into the bed. "He's a god from Atlantis." She yawned, muttering, "I can't recall what he was a god of though." She snuggled down into the bed. "Coming to bed?"

"Not yet, sugar bugger," he told her, as he went over to the door of the hotel room. "Don't wait up…" A gentle snore hit his ears. "And to think this is the woman who supposedly has insomnia."

If he had bothered to stay he would have found out that her sleep only lasted half an hour and it had ended in a nightmare. Well, no one said that the crazy mercenary had anything known as patience.

 **TBC…**

 **…**

 **Another chapter has gone snorkeling into the Internet seas. Thank you, as always, for reading and I hope that you're having a jazz fueled day.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer—I do not own Harry Potter, Deadpool, or any of the characters therein. Nor do I make any moneys from the posting of this fanfiction.**

 **Hey! Hoe! Wave your hands in the air! Wave them if you just don't care! But if you can't managed that, review. (Snorts) that was not one of my best efforts, but if you can review, I'd be grateful. Enjoy!**

 **…**

 **Chapter Eight**

Hermione was in the middle of a watching a mind numbing television marathon when she received a reaping list that had her leaping to her feet and angrily appariting to the location in question. When she arrived, she discovered that she was outside of a biker bar. She looked around and found three men in the parking lot. Two of the men were rather tall individuals built like sides of beef. The third man was hanging by his ankle from the taller of the two men's hands.

"…So like I was telling those other guys," Deadpool said, sounding as if he wasn't being held upside down by his ankle. "Me and my girl…" He looked over to where Hermione was now glaring at him. "Hi Sweet Cheeks!" He looked back to the men. "We're looking for the first scythe of the first reaper. Have you seen it recently?"

"Like I said," the bigger of the two men said. "He's crazy."

"Very much so," Hermione said, making the two look over to where she was approaching them. "Now put the crazy man down."

The man dropped Deadpool. He got up, dusting himself off. Deadpool looked over to Hermione. "Baby!" He was hit by lightning that came out of a clear night sky. Coughing he got to his feet, dusting himself off once more. "Okay, I won't call you baby again."

Glaring at him, she muttered, "It would serve you right if I reaped you."

"Aww, Sweet Cheeks, is that any way to treat the love of your life?"

She looked to the two men watching them. "It's moments like this that I must ask if I'm a masochist."

"If you have to ask, you are," the shorter of the two men said casually.

She thought it over and nodded slowly. "Too true." Looking the two men over, she said, "I'm looking for Acheron."

"What for?" the other man asked her. "Don't tell me that the story that fool said was true."

She explained what was going on, where their investigation had taken them to date and finished with, "And it would be a big help if I could find out if where we are going with this investigation is on the right track. And Acheron is the only being I can think of that can tell me one way or the other." Hermione looked to the taller of the two men. "So am I?"

Acheron, the taller of the two men, smiled slowly. "How did you know?"

"I heard a rumor that you had this sex appeal that had women weak in the knees." She tilted her head, studying him. "You're good looking, but I don't see what they're speaking about. It's the magic coming off of you that told me more than your looks. Power like that can only come from a demigod."

He nodded to this, as he watched her walking over to the man in red and black. She took his mask off, looking deeply into his eyes. Caressing his face, she asked, "Are you okay?"

"Right as rain, Sweet Cheeks," the man assured her, as he leaned down and kissed her forehead. "How's my favorite reaper?"

"I was terrified they would kill you before I could get here," she told him. "A local reaper wouldn't know better."

He studied her a moment. "Just how much sleep did you get?"

"I did okay. Better than I usually do when sleeping alone," she told him. "Missed you." She blushed even as she muttered, "It appears that I can't sleep without your hands on my backside."

He chuckled, as he looked over to the two men watching them. "Well? Do you think it's the first reaper's scythe that's doing the deed?"

Hermione pulled out the papers, handing them over to Acheron. He looked them over, letting out a long sigh. Looking over to her, he said, "Seeing as it's only going on in the U.K. it might be something more local. Have you thought of it being a rogue reaper from the British Isles?"

"A rogue reaper still has to deal with the rules," she told him. "Their scythes won't work if it's not a sanctioned death from the list."

He thought that over. "A rogue reaper with the first scythe could though."

Letting out a long sigh, she muttered, "We'd be fucked if that were the case."

He nodded. "Very true." Then he smiled and said, "But if anyone can solve this problem, it's you."

"You're only saying that to make me feel better, but I'll take it…Knock it off, Wade!" she snapped at the man next to her.

"Knock off what?" he asked, attempting to sound innocent.

"Making faces at them," she said, holding out her hand with his mask in it.

He grabbed up his mask, muttering, "Totally forgot about that."

"I figured that out," she said dryly and slapped his gut. "I told you to stop!"

"I was wearing the mask! How could you tell?"

"You put your thumbs in your ears and wiggled your fingers. And you wouldn't think it, but a lot of your facial expressions are coming through," she pointed out to him. She held out her hand to him. "We have to get back to London. I want to get a meal and hot messy sex with my crazy man before we leave."

"Who?" he demanded.

"You," she said with a smile.

"Oh. Okay," he replied, taking her hand and pulling her into his arms. She pushed his mask up enough to kiss his lips lightly. "Does this mean you're my sane witch?"

"Goes without saying," she replied quietly. "You okay with that?"

He yanked his mask completely off, as he murmured, "Best deal I've ever had, Sweet Cheeks."

 **TBC…**

 **…**

 **There she blows! Another chapter has dove into the Internet ocean. Thanks for reading, reviewing, not to mention following/favoriting. Take care and have yourselves a happy-happy, joy-joy day!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer—I do not own Harry Potter, Deadpool, or any of the characters therein. Nor do I make any moneys from the posting of this fanfiction.**

 **Hello! Welcome back to the next chapter in this fanfiction extravaganza! And after this, the swimsuit event! (Snorts) What can I say? I saw the Steve Harvey cellphone commercial and it me thinking of beauty pageants. Thanks for reading, please review, and enjoy.**

 **…**

 **Chapter Nine**

Hermione was sleeping in Wade's arms, as they were transported on the X-Men's blackbird back to England thanks to a favor that Wolverine owed to Wade. Logan watched the two for a time before settling himself down across from them.

"So what's the deal with the girl, Deadpool?"

"She's my own little witchy reaper," he sighed happily, kissing her head. "She's smart, beautiful, and great in the sack." He smiled. "And she likes me. She really likes me!" Wade looked to Wolverine. "Trust me, I've been asking myself if she's as nuts as me and I keep coming up with zero on that front so I don't get it either."

Logan chuckled deeply, saying, "Don't lose her then."

"Don't plan to," he murmured and pressed his face into the crook of her neck, falling into a very light sleep.

…

They arrived in London shortly before three in the afternoon. Deadpool and Hermione ended up over at her flat, once they went over to pick up some chimichangas for dinner that is. It was as she was pulling out their drinks and handing one over to Wade when there was a knock at her door.

Putting her beer down, she went over to the door. But before she went two steps, the door blew in and a light so bright overwhelmed her to the point where she was forced to look away. And then the light began to burn. Hermione screamed in pain, unable to get away from the bright light any more than metal could a magnet. Before she knew it she was being grabbed and pulled away. She could hear a crashing sound before an explosion even as she felt air rushing past her. They, because now she knew it had to be Wade who had jumped out with her, landed and rolled to a stop. Wade covered her with his body, as debris from the explosion rained down on them.

By the time it had stopped, Wade lifted himself up to look down at Hermione. Half of her face was burnt, but was healing quickly as was her arm and hand.

"Well, now we know one thing," she said, her voice hoarse from being burnt. "Whomever is doing this knows that we've been investigating the deaths."

Wade got to his feet and helped her up. "Whomever it is they just made an enemy of me."

"We'll get more chimichangas," she murmured.

"No, it's what they did to you," he muttered. She looked over to him. "Okay, you and the chimichangas. The food I could have overlooked, but not the two of you at once. No way, no how."

Going on her tiptoes, she kissed his lips lightly. "Let's find ourselves a safe house, shall we?"

…

They ended up at a cheap public house in East Anglia. Hermione cleaned it up magically and proceeded to create a kitchen as well as a larger bedroom with a king size bed. Once she was done doing so, she began to work on dinner.

It was a very contented Wade that smiled and hugged her from behind, telling her, "You're the most beautiful woman I know."

Smiling she asked, "Is it just me or is it me as well as the tacos that I'm making?"

Kissing her temple, he said, "You all on your own is a sight to behold. The two of you together just makes your beauty epic."

Laughing she plated up the seven tacos and handed them over to him. "Thank you."

"No, we aren't getting any cuter, as I would have to kill someone to get past all the indigestion it would cause me," he told her, making her laugh all the more.

"Very well," she told him, as she served her own plate of food. "I figure we have to look into the lives of the people that have died so far. There must be some sort of connection."

"But what?" he asked her. "You yourself said that they were all over the UK and that there didn't appear to be any sort of link that you knew of."

"That's just it," she said. "That _I_ know of. We have to investigate the lives of the people that have died so far. There has got to be not only a connection to the others there, but the rogue reaper as well."

"Where would we start?" he inquired and chomped into his second taco.

"Where they did," she replied. "Their births."

…

This, Hermione thought, would be going ever so much faster if she had help. She looked over to Wade, who was sound asleep and grumbling about killing the person who stole his chimichangas and tried to kill his reaper.

Setting up the computer to do the search of connections between all the murder victims, she left it to run on its own and went over to Wade. Stripping she watched as he snuggled all the more with the pillow he was holding. She slipped into the bed with him and yanked the pillow away from him, tossing it to the side. Taking the pillow's place, she began to kiss his neck and jaw.

"Hmm, can't sleep?" he asked, drowsily as he began to kiss her back as well.

"I wanted to suck you off and jump on for a ride," she murmured. "But I didn't want to startle you awake."

"Babe, no sane man is going to say no to a mouth on their dick."

She paused and said, "Uh, Wade…?"

He paused as well, muttering, "Okay, I know I'm not sane, but you know what I meant."

Grinning, she rolled him to his back and was kissing her way down his chest when there was a pounding on their door.

"I'm killing them!" he snapped, jumping up and grabbing his katana only to toss it aside and grab one of his giant hammers instead.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione dressed them both in robes and had her wand out as she checked the peephole. Looking over to Wade, she told him, "It's Harry. You don't get to kill him."

"Come on! He interrupted sexy time!"

"No!" she snapped, opening the door slightly, as she asked, "Password?"

He frowned, asking, "Since when have we had a password?"

She opened the door all the way. "Come on in."

 **TBC…**

 **…**

 **Another chapter has sashayed sassily down the Internet runway. Thank you for reading, reviewing, and following/favoriting. Take care and I hope that you're all having yourself a blissful day.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer—I do not own Harry Potter, Deadpool, or any of the characters therein. Nor do I make any moneys from the posting of this fanfiction.**

 **Hello! Okay, everyone line up in an orderly fashion, please! We're all here for the new chapter and we'll get to it as soon as possible. Please if you could remove all metal objects at this time, as well as putting on your comfy pajamas and slippers. Place your possessions in the cubbies provided to you to your left before entering the chapter. Thank you for your patience! Enjoy!**

 **…**

 **Chapter Ten**

Harry sat there looking stunned the moment Hermione finished telling the story as to what happened at her flat. It was either that or the fact that he couldn't take his eyes off of the rather large knife Wade was using to pick at his nails—she didn't know and at that point she wasn't going to make a guess.

"So what are you doing now?"

The robe clad mercenary started to say, "I would be having my dick…"

"Wade!" Hermione yanked her robe even further shut at her neck as she snapped, even as Harry tried not to laugh. Looking over to her longtime friend, she said, "We're looking into the lives of the people that have died." Worrying her lower lip she said, "I haven't received any new lists of the dead since we returned to London. That must mean something. Though what, I don't know."

"Do you need any help with the investigation?"

"All of the people so far are muggles," she murmured. "So I don't know if you could assist even if we did need the help."

He nodded to this, as he got up. "Call me if you need anything."

"Will do," she said, as she walked him to the door. "Take care, tell Gin that I'll call her when I can and hug the kids for me."

Soon enough she got him out the door. Locking the door behind him, she went over to Wade jumping up and wrapped her legs around his hips. Kissing each other hungrily, he threw the knife into the nearest wall and carried her straight over to the bed.

Once to the bed they were yanking the robes off. No sooner were the robes out of the way, Wade was pressing into her slowly. Neither one of them seemed to be able to look away from each other's eyes, as they kept their agonizingly slow pace. No words were exchanged, nor were any needed between them in that moment. And when the climax came, they both knew that they were in rather deep emotional shit—as they were feeling more for the other than either of them ever anticipated.

Lying together wrapped in each other's arms, Wade breathed, "Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"I-I think I might…you know…feel something more than lust for you," he murmured.

"Good," she replied. "I think I might feel something more than lust for you too."

Cupping her face, he asked, "Do you think you can go for another round?"

Smiling, she spun them both around so that he was now on the bottom. "I thought you'd never ask."

Laughing up at her Wade reassessed what he was feeling. No, he didn't think he might feel something more for this woman. He damn well knew it.

…

Bright and early at noon the next day, Hermione was checking on the status of the searches. This would have been so much easier if Wade wasn't insisting on cooking. That in itself wasn't the issue. The fact that he was making enough pancakes for a small army was. And he was putting them just about everywhere, including right next to her where she was trying to work.

"Come on, Sweet Cheeks! Eat!" he tried to cajole her.

Setting aside her laptop, she told him, "Even if I do eat, I still wouldn't be able to eat all of the pancakes you've made and are still making."

"I know," he sighed. "I just think seventeen dozen is a nice round number."

"Two hundred-four pancakes, though an even number, is still far more pancakes than we need," she pointed out to him before taking a bite of her food. "Hmm, they're lovely. Thank you."

"You're very welcome!" he chirped. "So what have you come up with so far?"

"So far? Next to nothing," she admitted. "All of our victims were born all around the UK. And although many of them were born during the same time period, they weren't related to each other. A few were born in the same hospitals, but again they weren't connected even by way of physicians."

"How about schools?" he asked.

Her head shot up. "Schools?"

"You know primary schools, high schools, or whatever you guys call them here," he said, casually as he finished with another batch of pancakes.

She took another bite of pancakes before getting back onto her laptop. Swallowing her bite she said, "If I can find out the schools that one of the individuals of the larger approximate age range attended, I can then do a cross check the others in that same group against it. We might find that a few went to the same schools, which will give us a start."

Hermione quickly separated the group by age and found out that the majority of the people that had been killed were approximately the same age. She had noticed this before, but it hadn't hit her as it did now. Out of all the people that the rogue reaper had killed, 60% were the same age and another 20% were within a year of that group. The other 20% were either old enough to be the parents of the larger group or young enough to be their children. So focusing on the larger group would be a good idea.

"Open your mouth," Wade told her. "You need to eat, Sweet Cheeks."

Setting the computer aside to find out the schools one of the victims had gone to, she took the bite from the fork he was offering to her. Chewing it, she let out a hum of delight. "You make the best pancakes, Wade. Even so, I can't eat all of them myself!"

"I would say that we could work them off, but they would get cold," he muttered.

"Should I invite people over?" she asked him. "We have more than enough food." She clapped her hands. "I know what to do. Since we don't want them to know where we are, we can take the food over to the Burrow. And then have everyone go over there to meet up with us!"

"Good idea!" he replied. "You pack up everything and I'll get all geared up."

"No killing the annoying Weasleys, Wade."

He pouted. "Why not?"

"If I can't do it, you can't," she replied, as she was magically shrinking the pancakes that had a warming charm on them and put them away in her purse.

He kissed her cheek. "Okeydokey, Sweet Cheeks."

 **TBC…**

 **…**

 **And another chapter has passed the checkered flag into the Internet! Thank you for reading and I hope that all of you are having a (choose uplifting and happy word of your choice) day!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer—I do not own Harry Potter, Deadpool, or any of the characters therein. Nor do I make any moneys from the posting of this fanfiction.**

 **I like big chapters and I cannot lie! Yeah, I'm not going further than that. Next thing you know I'll have something here about anacondas and all that and I'll never get to the end of this. Enjoy the chapter! Please review.**

 **…**

 **Chapter Eleven**

Hermione let out a contented sigh once she had her coffee in hand. Ginny looked to her longtime friend over to the man who had yet to stop talking to the twins. Her brothers found Wade to be one of the funniest individuals, as they had yet to stop laughing. Ginny went over to Hermione and sat down next to her.

"So how is it that you met this charming man?"

"I can't get into the details, but we met during my work," she answered and took a sip of her brew.

The youngest Weasley frowned. "But I thought you said he was a muggle."

"He is," she replied. "But he was involved with something I've been dealing with." Getting up, she went over to Wade. Without breaking the conversation, he sat down next to the twins and pulled Hermione into his lap.

She rested her head against his neck and set her mug down on thin air. Wade caught it, still without stopping his story and set it on the table that was five inches off from where she had tried to put the mug in the first place. He kissed her shoulder, as she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep to the chattering of the man whose lap she was resting in.

Harry and Ron were off to the side, both in shock having seen what their best friend had done.

"She's sleeping in his arms?" Ron asked. "She couldn't even sleep if I were in the same room never mind in my arms." Frowning he said, "I don't think she trusted me!"

His friend didn't know what to say about that, but ended up replying, "I don't think of it as a matter of her not trusting you."

"Really?" he asked. "Then why…"

"She more than trusts him," Harry told Ron. "She loves him." He ended up putting a hand on his shoulder and said, "You're with Lav. Do you really care about arelationship that ended a while ago?"

Ron could only nodded, as he turned and went over to where his wife was dealing with feeding their children. Harry let out a sigh of relief. The dark haired wizard looked back over to where their friend was sleeping in the other man's arms. Wade had been paying keen attention to the conversation between Hermione's school friends. Ron being Ron hadn't seen as much, but Harry had. And it was very clear that if the red head had said the wrong thing, Ron wouldn't have lived to see much more of that day.

…

Hermione and Wade arrived back at the safe house, doing a quick inspection of both the wards and the booby-traps that Wade had left in their wake. He disabled them, even as Hermione went back to work on the school search she had left running when they went to visit the Weasleys. The man she whose school history she had left running had ome up with only to three different schools during his scholastic career and had for the most part had kept to where he had grown up in Nottingham. Hermione took all three schools and set it up to cross check with the other victims of the same age group and was about to get up to take a nap when the results started erupting immediately.

"My god," she breathed, as each and every one of the victims came up for the same primary school as the victim. "All of them?"

"What's up, Sweet Cheeks?" Deadpool asked, as he was pulling on his usual outfit.

"All of the victims of approximately the same age went to the same school as children," she told them.

"So whomever the killer reaper that did them in more than likely was associated with the same school, right?"

She slowly nodded to this, adding, "It would have to be a particular time period though. They would had to have been there at the same time." She did the checking and discovered that it was all during one school year in question. "They were all there during the latter part of 1989 and the beginning of 1990. Some of them moved there just prior to this time and there were a few that moved or changed schools afterwards." She looked over to him. "This is the only time period that all of them were in the same school at the same time."

"Well what now?" he asked her."

"Now we need to know who had it in for them so badly that they would want them dead," she muttered. Looking over to him, she said, "It looks like we're going on a field trip."

"Oooh! Goody! A field trip!" He leaned down and was face to face with her, "I get shotgun!"

She kissed his cloth covered cheek and said, "Of course you do."

He was silent a moment before he said, "I'm not getting shotgun, am I?"

"We're taking a portkey," she told him, getting to her feet. "There is no such thing as shotgun when doing so."

"Oh. Bummer." He sounded truly disappointed saying as much.

Smiling she told him, "We'll get ice cream once we're done."

"Excellent," he said, hugging her. "You're the bestest, Sweet Cheeks."

…

They took the portkey to the nearest magical shopping area in Nottingham and popped over to the school in question thanks to Deadpool's transporting them both. The school—Locksley Primary School—was teaming with students as they made their way over to the offices.

They stood at the desk of the deputy-headmaster a Mr. Allister Worth. The middle aged gentleman had an air of such dire seriousness as to be nearly a dense, visible shield about the man. This wasn't helped by the fact that he had the look of a clown without his makeup what with the bald dome of his head being fringed in wiry red tresses that stuck out in odd angles on his head. Hermione could only hope that Deadpool wouldn't point this out to the man.

She handed him a subpoena for the paperwork in question. He looked it over and to them and back to the paperwork once again.

"It's about the death class, isn't it?" he asked, his voice quiet as he did as much.

"I beg your pardon?" Hermione inquired.

"The fifth year class from 1989/1990," he said. "I've been an educator for going on twenty-three years now. We've lost students before. People die. It's the nature of man and all that rot. But not once in all my days have I ever…" He swallowed thickly. "How is it that an entire class of students, years and years after they have left their schooling and some no longer even in the country, die at the same approximate time?"

"Not all of them did," she murmured quietly.

He shook his head no. "A couple died while in uni—a car accident I believe. Another few died of illness, though where and when, I don't know." He stood up. "We don't have the records for that class. We only keep them for ten years. But we do have class photographs that we keep in the new computer record keeping system. The headmaster wanted us to keep the photos as a time capsule of some sort. I didn't think it was a good way to use our technology, but now that all this is going on…" He sighed heavily. "I'm glad we did."

 **TBC…**

 **…**

 **The final whistle has blown on the chapter and it is rushing into the locker room of the Internet. Thanks for reading, reviewing, and following/favoriting. You guys are awesomeness personified. Take care and I hope that you're all having a radiant day.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer—I do not own Harry Potter, Deadpool, or any of the characters therein. Nor do I make any moneys from the posting of this fanfiction.**

 **Hello, everyone. Hope that your day is going well. Here's the next chapter. Enjoy!**

 **…**

 **Chapter Twelve**

"Psst, Sweet Cheeks?" Deadpool spoke to her as soon as the man left them there to look over the photos. "How is this going to help us?"

"We don't know if it's the entire class that's died," she pointed out to him. "I have a feeling that our answer to whom it might be will be here." She got up, pushed him into the seat in front of the computer. "You read off the names there on the computer and I'll check them off of our list."

"But this is so boring!" he whined.

She leaned down and whispered something that had him letting out a long sigh and breathed, "That would be a great way to eat ice cream."

"With the toppings of your choice," she murmured.

"Ansel 'my parents clearly didn't love me' Andrews, Bernadette 'I need a new nose' Abbot…" And on and on it went. Until, "Colin 'I'm on drugs to be this happy' Creevey…"

Hermione's head snapped up. "Stop!" She slipped into his lap and looked at the photo. "No, it can't be…"

"What? You knew him?" he asked, looking at the photograph again. "That runty little kid?"

"He was a sweet boy," she murmured. "That died far too soon."

"Sweet Cheeks," he breathed. "Is he the reaper we are going after?"

Her head lowered slightly, as she admitted, "He might be. The Fates tend to pick magicals due to the fact that they don't need to train them as much as a non-magical." She worried her lower lip. "But I can't see him doing it for no good reason." She muttered, "There has to be." But this was the cold blooded murder of not just one person but just over fifty men and women. There wasn't a plausible reason for it and she knew it.

Deadpool pulled her back into a hug, kissing her temple and just held her as she came to terms that the individual doing all the rogue reaping just might be an old friend.

…

They went to speak to the deputy-headmaster again, but by this time he was occupied with the workings of the school. Knowing that they had a better source to speak to about Colin, they ended up thanking the man and went on their way.

Dennis Creevey was now working as a photographic journalist for the _Quibbler_. And it had been their good luck that he happened to be in London, as they had found out once they had located him at his flat that he was due to travel over to the Amazon to help with the filming of a nature special in the next two weeks.

The arrived in to Colin's brother's flat in Hackney just in time to see Dennis's husband flying out the door yelling that he was already late for a meeting. Dennis's face lit up at the sight of his one time school mate there at his door.

"Hermione!" He hugged her, stepping back and gave a puzzled look over to Deadpool.

"Dennis, this is Deadpool," she introduced them. "Deadpool, this is Dennis Creevey."

"Nice meeting you," Dennis said. "Come in! Any special reason why you're here? I haven't seen you since that disaster of a date you had with that lad…what was his name?"

"I made it a point to forget it," she said, chuckling weakly. "Dennis, I need to ask some very difficult questions." He looked over to her, as he was shutting the door. "About Colin."

Any and all humor left his face. "He's dead."

"I know," she murmured. "But the questions still need to be asked."

Pursing his lips, he went to sit down in a wingback chair without even bothering to invite them to do the same on the lounge across from him.

"Tell me about Locksley Primary School," she said, managing to startle him.

"The school from hell?" he asked absently even as his kind face went a bit harder with the memories. "What's to tell? My brother and I hated it there."

"Why?" she pressed gently.

Clearing his throat, he said, "My da was a milkman. We didn't have much and my ma did her best to stretch every dime. She managed to make friends with the board of governors of the school and Colin and I got into the school thanks to a scholarship. The kids going there came from wealth and saw us no better than dirt under their shoes. Because of that, well, they bullied us constantly. The ones that didn't bully us, either did nothing or supported those who did. It was a daily battle just to be able to get to eat our lunches in peace."

"Were they harder on Colin?"

He laughed humorlessly and said, "Yes, in fact he drew their attention on purpose in a way to protect me from their cruelty." Dennis frowned. "Why are you asking about this? It was ages ago."

"I needed some answers," she told him. "And yes, they were important." Smiling kindly, she added, "I wish I could tell you about this, but as it is I was pushing my luck coming to speak to you." She went over to him and said, "Thank you so much…"

"Does this have anything to do with Colin's ghost coming to visit?" he asked, interrupting her.

"His ghost?"

"Damn," he muttered getting to his feet. "Forget I mentioned it…"

"I can't," she said. "Tell me about it."

Frowning he got up and went over to the side table, grabbing up his fags and yanking one out. He pulled out his lighter from his pocket, lighting it. Letting out the first hit in a long stream, he looked over to them.

"He's been coming to see me since he died," he told them. "Said that he had a job and that he was happy."

Worrying her lower lip, she asked, "That might have been how he was feeling when he first started, but is that still the case?"

He looked at his cigarette for a moment. "Honestly?" Frowning he said, "I don't think so."

…

"Okay," Wade said as he casually licked at the whipped cream off of Hermione's skin. "Cotton…"

"Colin," she corrected him breathlessly.

"Colin was bullied and died in that war of yours. And now he's killing all the kids in that class of his, starting with the bullies that treated him like shit and in some cases their parents and kids?" He paused. "Sounds fair."

"That in no way is fair!" she snapped at him. "Everyone has a time and a place they take their last breath. It is not for us to play judge, juror and executioner. We reap what was sown when we are given the lists by the Fates and not a moment before." Frowning she muttered, "No one has ever said death was fair in that regard." She let out a long groan as his mouth suckled at her nipple.

"I like ice cream a lot more now than I used to," he murmured. "So what are you going to do about this Concave guy…"

"Colin Creevey," she corrected him absently. "If he broke the contract, he must be punished."

He lifted his head and asked, "How can you find out it's him or not?"

"I have to meet with him in person," she told him. "The moment I shake his hand, I'll know. He'll carry their deaths with him like a bad aura."

"Like a sweaty palm?"

Giggling she murmured, "Close enough."

 **TBC…**

 **…**

 **And there went another chapter speed walking into the Internet! Thank you so much for reading. If you could, please review. Take care and please have yourselves a blessed day.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer—I do not own Harry Potter, Deadpool, or any of the characters therein. Nor do I make any moneys from the posting of this fanfiction.**

 **Wow! We're getting so close to the end. Here's the new chapter. Enjoy.**

 **…**

 **Chapter Thirteen**

Hogwarts. The school that had been a haven from the outside world, but also a hell once the war took hold. The beginning of her life as a witch and the end of it as well. She drifted more than walked towards the shores of the Black Lake. The giant squid waved to her from the depths. Smiling she waved back, feeling for the first time a presence other than the creatures who lived there or even Deadpool, who was watching from close by.

"Come out, Colin," she called out. "I know it's you."

The young boy came out of hiding from the fringes of the Forbidden Forest, watching her with a deep anger in his blue eyes. She looked over to him, still dressed as he had been when he died during the battle that had claimed his life. School robes and a blast mark in the middle of his chest.

"Why did you have to involve my brother?" he demanded.

"There were questions only he could answer," she replied. "You know that as well as I do."

"Why not come to me? You had already suspected I was responsible for what was happening, you should have come to me!" he raged.

Hermione turned to face him. "You're so angry."

He snorted. "Of course I'm angry! Anyone in my position would be." Studying her a moment. "Shocked that you aren't right pissed."

She shrugged. "I am, but unlike you it's something else I'm pissed at."

"What?" he asked. "What has the great Hermione Granger angry?"

"First, I'm not the great anything," Hermione corrected him. She walked closer to him. "And I'm angry over the fact that a boy that I thought was a sweet, loving and good person let his anger and resentment overrule his sanity to lead him into doing the one thing I never thought he would ever do—murder."

His eyes narrowed. "What I did wasn't murder. It was justice."

"They weren't on the master reapers list!" she roared. "You aren't Fate! It wasn't your place to decide that it was their time to die." Hermione stopped yelling and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Why now? Can you at least tell me that much? It's been fourteen years since the end of the war and another six since you left Locksley."

He looked out to the lake and sighed, "At first I was fine with passing on. Our side won and I got to fight on that side if only for a short time." Colin looked over to Hermione. "The Fates decided that I should become a reaper once I crossed over. They thought I would be a good reaper for those out in the world that would be intimidated by death." He kneeled down and picked up a stone studying it, as he kept speaking. "I was good at my work. I helped people over their fear of death and I did a good turn by them to allow them to leave notes to their loved ones where and when it was possible." He looked at her. "But then I noticed it. Everyone I knew was growing up, getting older, and moving on in the world." He stood up. "Soon they had wives and children and here I was poor dead Colin Creevey with nothing and no one other than a job to reap those still allowed to live." He threw the stone angrily. "It wasn't fair! But then…" He bowed his head down, clutching his fists. "…then I saw what was happening with all those bullies from my Fifth year at Locksley. They were so fucking happy with their little homes and their little wives and their little children…" He looked at her resentment darkening his eyes. "They would throw my food to the ground and made me eat it while they made farm noises. They would tell me that I was no better than a farm animal! And that was on a good day."

"It still wasn't your place to do as you did, Colin," she told him quietly.

"They lost their right to live by treating me and my brother like garbage!" He picked up a larger rock and it changed into a scythe, but not just any scythe, but the scythe of the first reaper. Solid and proud it stood feet over Colin's head. "And you, why couldn't you have just passed by me! What did I do to earn an early death?!"

"Nothing," she murmured, her voice laced with sympathy. "It was your time, Colin. It's as simple as that."

He sneered at her words. "Why you? Why did you have to be the one to come after me? I would have thought it was Harry."

"No, you got me, as it's my job in this instance," she told him. "Harry retired his position to me."

"You probably made him!" he snarled.

She shook her head no. "Harry had more than enough of the job and asked me, dare I say, nearly was begging for me to take it. And given how this spot of trouble has been going on, I really couldn't blame him for not wanting anything to do with this work anymore."

"Liar!" He swung the scythe, burying it straight into her belly and right through her back.

When he tried to pull it out of her, it wouldn't budge. He went closer, but to no use. Soon he was right up next to her, pulling for all he was worth only to have Hermione grabbing him by his tie and standing up straight, as she looked deeply into his eyes.

"You don't get it do you?" she asked him, as the flesh around the scythe started to vanish. All of her flesh was disappearing in both directions, leaving nothing but bone in its wake. "I'm not a representative of death now. I haven't been just a representative since I gained the Deathly Hallows from Harry Potter." The scythe dropped into her skeletal hand and she stood it up straight, never looking away from Colin's fear filled face. "I'm not a representative, Mr. Creevey." She leaned down as her face went to bone and her amber eyes vanished, leaving empty, black sockets. "I…" She turned the scythe, "…am…" pressed the sharp blade to the underside of his neck, "…Death."

His death scream sent the ravens in the nearby trees into flight.

…

Hermione stood overlooking the Black Lake with the scythe in her hand and still looking like a skeleton. She felt a cloth covered hand slip into hers. Turning she looked over to Deadpool standing next to her.

"So are you going to keep this look?" he asked her.

Smiling, she told him, "I will as long as I hold this scythe, I think." She looked at her hand holding the scythe. "It's not working for me."

"You make being skeletal look good." Deadpool then looked at where her ass would have been, not to mention her breasts and added, "But I miss your lady lumps though."

Laughing she said, "Let's get this someplace safe and well away from me then, shall we?"

"The sooner the better!"

 **TBC…**

 **…**

 **And there goes another chapter into the award's ceremony that is the Internet. Thank you for reading and I hope that you're all having a jubilating day!**


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer—I do not own Harry Potter, Deadpool, or any of the characters therein. Nor do I make any moneys from the posting of this fanfiction.**

 **Here we are…the end is near…it's time to read…the penultimate chapter! (Laughs) points go to the person that knows the song that line sort of came from. Enjoy.**

 **…**

 **Chapter Fourteen**

Harry left Gringotts Bank, rejoining Hermione and Deadpool at one of the new cafés in Diagon Alley. When they had first come to him to ask for his help in hiding the scythe, Harry didn't know what to make of the request. Deadpool was doing the asking and was doing so in such a way as to be rather confusing. It wasn't until Hermione removed the hood from her head, revealing that not only was she wearing the invisibility cloak, but she was rather…well, looking less fleshy than she once had that he came to understand that Hermione needed the scythe in a safe place far away from her. Once he joined them at the small café, he saw that although she was looking rather thin, she was less bony than before.

"What now?" Harry asked her. "What will happen with the victims?"

"I don't know," she told him. "That's up to Fate. Chances are that they'll be given an option that they wouldn't have otherwise. I can't say what it is, but that's usually what happens with the early deaths."

Harry nodded solemnly at this news. "And you? What are you going to be doing?"

Hermione looked over to Deadpool who smiled and lifted her hand and kissed it. "We're going to be taking it one day at a time," Hermione told him. "We'll both be doing our different things, while trying to spread peace and Mexican food the world over."

"Uh…okay," he stammered, even as they laughed quietly. They stood up and made ready to leave, when he asked, "Will the next time I see you be when you reap me?"

"I don't know," she answered honestly, as she pulled him out of his seat and the two hugged. "I'll miss you so much, Harry. Take care of yourself. I don't want to see your name on my list any time soon."

"You know I will," he breathed, pulling back. "Take care of yourself as well."

"That's my job," Deadpool told him. "And I'll have you know that I'm the best at reaper maintenance and safety."

Laughing, he said, "Good to know."

The last thing Harry heard before they popped out of sight was, "Damn, girl, you need to gain that weight back fast! I have no place for my hands to go!"

Chuckling Harry went walking back to work, wondering if the immortal couple would make it for the long run. Still smiling, he strolled casually feeling at ease, as something told him that they would.

 **TBC…**

 **Another chapter has taken its bow and has joined the rest of the cast partying on the Internet. The epilogue is next and will be posted straight away. Don't just sit there reading this! Go to the epilogue! See you there!**


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer—I do not own Harry Potter, Deadpool, or any of the characters therein. Nor do I make any moneys from the posting of this fanfiction.**

 **Our adventure is nearly finished. Enjoy.**

…

 **Epilogue**

"That was fun! Let's do it again!" Deadpool crowed as they entered into his grungy apartment.

Laughing, she said, "I have to go soon. The writer has this idea she's been playing with. Hopefully it won't turn out duller than dirt."

"Something just occurred to me," he said, as he went over to the kitchenette and checked out the fridge to see if the Chimichangas were there. Sure enough, there they were. "The writer never explained the change in my backstory."

Laughing she said, "Seeing as the story is over, it's too late to go there, don't you think?"

He nodded in agreement. "We make a great team," he told her, as she went over to his computer.

Turning it on, she nodded as she said, "That we did. It helps that there's never a truly dull moment with you around either."

"Thank you very much!" He blinked at what she was doing, asking, "What are you up to?"

"I have it on good authority that there's an article about you out there that you might want to read…A-ha! There it is." She pulled it up. She skimmed over it with a small smile. "There you go. Have fun reading it." Hermione got to her feet, facing him. "I'm going to miss you, Wade."

"And I'll miss you too, Sweet Cheeks." He pulled her into a hug. "Try to convince the writer to write up another story with us, would ya?"

"I have next to no influence on the woman, I'm sorry to say," she muttered. "Take care of yourself, Wade. Read the article. It's on your favorite topic—you!"

Letting her go, he sat down and started to read it as she was strolling away.

"What do you know, it is about me!" He mumbled the next few words before snapping, "Omni-sexual?! What the hell is that?!" He looked at her.

"Keep reading," she told him, backing away from him.

He was still screaming curses, as she was slipping into her cab on her way home. Wiping away a tear of mirth, Hermione hoped that the next adventure the writer sent her on wasn't quite so esoteric in nature. She smiled just the same. Whatever it's going to be, she thought, it would be fun.

 **THE END!**

 **…**

 **And there we are. The end of our amazing journey and the story I never thought I could write. It's amazing how one can change one's mind after a computer crash and one loses all of their works in progress. I'm currently working on several stories, not to mention ideas. Thanks for your continued support. With any luck I'll have another story up and running again soon. Take care and may today be bigger and brighter than the day before. And until next we meet, hang loose!**


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